


Andrew is Not Emused

by gluupor



Series: AFTG Bingo 2020 [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Bingo 2020, Alternate Universe, Bird Puns, Humor, M/M, Mutant Powers, Probably Crack, Prompt: Shapeshifting, Shapeshifting, but validate me anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25846795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor
Summary: Everyone was born with an innate Talent, some more useful than others. Andrew's is the ability to transform into a bird.No one mentioned the fine print.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: AFTG Bingo 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814353
Comments: 34
Kudos: 360
Collections: AFTG Bingo Blackout 2020 - Cupcakes, All For The Game Bingo 2020





	Andrew is Not Emused

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Cupcakes' attempt at a Bingo Blackout, for the Shapeshifting AU space. fornavn was kind enough to create some [amazing artwork](https://fornavn.tumblr.com/post/626179916817432577/shapeshifter-au-for-the-aftgbingo-gluupor-has) to go along with it.
> 
> ....I have no idea where this came from. Neil's abilities are due to the lovely Anna, who when I asked, "Is this too silly?" said, "Yes. Post it anyway."

If Andrew currently had arms, he would have crossed them in annoyance. As it was, he could do little more than ruffle his feathers and squawk indignantly. At least he was alone; the people who had imprisoned him had quickly learned their lesson about getting too close. They were all bruised and bleeding now, but that still didn’t help him. He was trapped until someone came to get him.

He hoped it wasn’t Allison; he’d never live it down. He also didn’t want it to be Nicky. Or Matt. Or, God forbid, Aaron. Honestly, he really didn’t want any of them to see him like this, but at least Neil or Renee, while mocking him relentlessly, wouldn’t make a video and post it on YouTube.

It was a ridiculous situation, far more suited to Neil or Nicky. Those two got themselves into trouble in numerous ways; Andrew was far more used to being the rescuer than the damsel in distress.

Like most things that had happened over the past few years, this whole situation was without a doubt Kevin’s fault. Without him, Andrew would never have found himself as part of a group of crime-fighting vigilantes. He would have been stuck in a grey, lifeless, pale excuse of an existence, or, more likely, dead. Both options sounded preferable to his current circumstances.

It was supposed to be an easy job, surveillance only. Their group knew that the Moriyamas were somehow involved in the recent increase in kidnappings of teenagers with unique or useful Talents, but they had no evidence. Kevin had assured Andrew he’d be perfectly safe on the Moriyamas’ extensive property, wandering around unnoticed with the game birds. No one had expected the Moriyamas to have a Sensor, someone whose Talent could tell what Andrew was—or, more accurately, what he was not.

He’d been discovered and Andrew had done the only thing he could: run. He’d sent a spare thought of apology to Neil for every time he’d disparaged his tendency to run away as he changed form into his fastest one and booked it off the property.

Once he was far enough away, he’d switched forms again, hoping to lose any pursuers. However, by that point he’d been in a busy part of town in order to get lost in the crowd, and he hadn’t considered what effect his form would have on the people around him. What it did was create panic and brought men with nets and stun batons. They’d subdued him, then chained him and locked him up. Now all he could do was wait.

Everyone was born with an innate Talent that manifested at puberty. They varied from the valuable and useful, like Aaron’s ability to heal with a touch, to the less impressive, such as Nicky’s ability to communicate with deep sea bass.

Andrew’s Talent fell more closely to the former in terms of usefulness, but like everything in his life that could have been good—such as finally finding a loving foster mother in Cass, or meeting his long-lost twin brother, or falling in love with Neil—it came with a giant caveat. Cass had come hand-in-hand with a son who wanted nothing more than to break Andrew; Aaron had an abusive mother who needed to be dealt with; and Neil was a sharp-tongued asshole who made too many bird puns.

Andrew’s Talent was the ability to shapeshift into birds; however, the laws of physics still applied. He could only shapeshift into birds of the same mass as himself.

No one had bothered to explain the limitation to him. Like all children, he’d been Tested on his tenth birthday and informed of what his Talent would be. When it manifested, he tried to become a songbird—something small that could fly away from Cass’ son Drake sneaking into his bedroom at night. Instead, Drake had been surprised by an irate swan when he crept into Andrew’s bedroom. Andrew, suddenly finding himself in possession of a sharp beak and a large wingspan, had attacked. The resulting cacophony of his outraged trumpeting and Drake’s angry shouts had woken his foster parents, only for them to witness their son being pecked unforgivably by a savage waterfowl. The resulting bloody mess had landed Drake in the hospital for a week, and Andrew had been sent away without fanfare, Cass’ face disappointed and reproving.

He hadn’t experimented with all his Talent could offer until several years later, after he’d met his twin and his cousin Nicky. Kevin had tracked the three of them down, mostly interested in Aaron’s healing Talent but also being one of the first people to point out how useful Andrew’s skills could be. He’d been the one to recruit them to the Foxes, the group his father headed who rallied against the rigid societal divides that allowed people like the Moriyamas to get away with owning other people.

Andrew’s Talent was mainly useful for surveillance or messaging. Although most of his forms were flightless, he’d closely studied an prehistoric bird known as _Argentavis magnificens_ which was capable of flight, even when weighing as much as he did. Flying always gave him mixed feelings of terror and exhilaration, but he had to be careful: a giant, extinct bird was sure to garner attention.

Mostly he shifted into more mundane birds: extra large swans or turkeys. He’d also played around with being a cassowary or a (small) ostrich. He’d become an Emperor penguin once; gliding through the water had been a thrill, but waddling on land as his so-called friends laughed at him had been less so. All that had led him here: emu-shaped and unhappy about it.

It was late when his enhanced hearing picked up the shuffling footsteps. The animal control agents who had corralled him and locked him in this cage, unsure of what to do with him, had all left hours earlier, leaving him with a dish of water and a bag of bird feed which he refused to touch.

The shuffling grew closer, until a pair of shoes came into view. Andrew made a low growling sound in his throat; the idiot had forgotten he was wearing clothes again. There was a clink and the door to his pen slid open. The shoes walked closer; Andrew leaned down to peck at them.

“Ow, stop it,” griped Neil’s voice, his face materializing in thin air. “I know you can see them, but do you really expect me to come into an animal holding pen in bare feet? It’s bad enough that my bits are flapping the breeze.”

Neil had the enviable ability to camouflage himself entirely, a Talent that had served him well when running for his life from his father’s group of thugs. However, the large caveat that came with his Talent was that he could only camouflage his own skin, hair, and nails. His clothing remained as-is. Neil’s discomfort with nudity resulted in a lot of mishaps of him trying to sneak away unseen, only to be caught because of disembodied clothing walking around.

“Get it?” asked Neil. “Flapping?”

Andrew straightened up and brought his own face level with Neil’s, trying to radiate his intense displeasure.

“You do not look emused,” deadpanned Neil, then expertly dodged Andrew’s attempt to nip him, laughing like an asshole. “Aw, don’t worry. I still think you’re dovely.”

Andrew made an unhappy drumming noise, something that came instinctively when in this form.

“Okay, okay, I’ll flock off,” said Neil. “Why didn’t you just transform when everyone went home?”

Andrew leaned over to jab at the ankle cuff one of the officers had attached to him; it was made of thick metal and would be far too tight around his human ankle. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen to him if he tried to change shapes with it attached to him.

“You know, I’ve never seen a bird roll its eyes before,” marvelled Neil, bringing his face close to the cuff. Andrew could feel his unseen hands gently prodding at it. “Hmm, I’ll need a key,” he quickly concluded. “Be back soon.” His face disappeared again and the shoes crept out of Andrew’s enclosure.

It seemed like an eternity before they came back, this time accompanied by a key ring floating a couple feet above them, swinging and jingling quietly. It took Neil about twelve tries before he found the right key to unlock Andrew’s cuff.

As soon as he was free, Andrew transformed back into himself. Unlike Neil, his clothes shifted with him, so he was luckily not standing naked in the middle of a bird cage.

“You hurt?” asked Neil, checking him over with careful hands.

Andrew shook his head. “How’d you find me so quickly?” he rasped, his voice rough from the emu calls he’d screamed at the animal control agents earlier in the day.

“Oh, uh,” said Neil shiftily, his shoes scuffing in the detritus on the ground. “You know Renee’s clairvoyant.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes at Neil’s obvious evasion.

“You almost look like an emu when you glare like that,” said Neil.

“Neil.”

“Fine,” sighed Neil, giving in. “But it’s going to make you emu-tional. You were on the news.”

“What.”

“Well, a rampaging emu downtown is apparently newsworthy!” exclaimed Neil. “You sent five people to hospital with emu-related injuries. Fowl play was suspected.” His lips twitched.

“On the news,” repeated Andrew flatly. “There is now video in the world that exists of me as an emu.”

“An attack emu,” said Neil, as if that made it better. “The news anchors said you’d gone quackers. They suggested you’d have to serve pigeon time.”

“Everyone saw it?” Andrew already knew the answer to that, but he had a faint glimmer of hope that maybe only Neil had seen his disgrace.

Neil grimaced, instantly snuffing out Andrew’s dream. “This is a little hawkward, but Allison’s already printed out a still and wrote ‘I’m gonna cremu’ on it. It’s hanging on the wall back at base. Everyone’s quacking up about it.”

“Why is this my life.” Maybe if Andrew ignored Neil’s increasingly bad puns he would stop.

“I know you’re probably filled with egrets, but on the bright side, all your feathers were im-peck-ably groomed.”

“I hate you,” declared Andrew.

“Aw, are you feeling grumpy?” asked Neil. “I’ll make you feel better. Let’s go home, get drunk on cockatiels, and I’ll talk birdy to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr [@gluupor](http://gluupor.tumblr.com).


End file.
